Worry Later
by Trinity Everett
Summary: Instead of giving Beckett the puppy-saving firefighter's number, Lanie dares her to go out with a more familiar man first. A Caskett 2x14 AU.


_This is an extreeeemely late birthday fic for our favorite Prompt Overlord, inkycoffee. Although this one isn't a prompt of yours, I hope you enjoy it anyway, Lou! 3_

 **Worry Later**

 **A Caskett 2x14 AU**

* * *

"I need a date."

Lanie looks at her as if she has sprouted a second head or started speaking in tongues. Truthfully, she hadn't quite meant to put it out there just that plainly, but she's battling the agitated flutter of her heart right now and if she doesn't do something about it soon, she won't.

"What?" her friend asks, her eyes narrowing. "Repeat that, because I know I didn't hear you right."

"A date. A guy. A man," Kate says, gaining steam and courage with it. See, she can do it, too. She can get a date with someone attractive and successful, and she _doesn't_ need to be on some pathetic 'Most Eligible' list to do it. She just needs a little help from a friend. And only because Lanie seems to know _everyone_. "You're always trying to set me up with people, so here I am. I'm game. What have you got?"

One of her friend's eyebrows skyrockets. "Okay, what's gotten into you?"

Ugh, Lanie. Don't ask that. She doesn't want to talk about interviews and assumptions, or her infuriating shadow. She just wants her friend to help her out.

"I get so wrapped up in work all I want to do is go home where it's quiet, and I'm so tired of quiet I want…"

"Castle," Lanie offers, crossing her arms over her chest, her lips curling in challenge.

"No. No. What? No. Loud, Lanie. I was going to say loud. I want _loud_."

Her friend snorts. "You sure about that, honey? Because this sudden need for an evening out didn't start until a certain someone made it onto the 'Most Eligible' list again. _Despite_ apparently making it seem like you're an item?"

"We are _not_ an item. He is annoying. He is frustrating. He is _ruining_ my reputation by–"

"Saying nice things about you to a reporter? Showing the world that he's just a little bit smitten with you?"

" _Bragging_ about working with me as a way to pick up other women," she answers, practically spitting it.

Not that Lanie is at all fazed by her ire. The ME closes the report she's working on, resting her hands on the manila folder.

"And you're not jealous at all. Not even a little bit."

"There's nothing to be jealous of."

"You said he was using the interview as a way to pick up other women. I think there's something to be jealous of."

Kate ignores her, forging ahead, "I just need a change and I thought you would have someone in mind."

Lanie rolls her eyes. "Girl, you are making yourself miserable this way. Just last week you had nothing but starry eyes for him. Now you're tied up in knots because it might be possible that he has starry eyes for you, too."

Beckett scowls. "This is not helping me, Lanie. Besides, _Castle_ is going out with Bachelorette Number _Three_."

"Sure he is, because – let me guess – the two of you couldn't just _talk_ , you had to end up at each other's throats, and so he opted to set himself up with a blonde to get to you while you came here to get me to help you get to _him_."

Her jaw drops. "That's not–"

"Uh huh. So here's my proposal: you put on a slinky dress and some shameless underwear and go out with Castle. If you _don't_ have an amazing time, then I have the perfect prescription for you."

Her friend hands her a torn strip of paper with… something scribbled on it. "Abraddekker?"

Lanie shakes her head, smirking. "No, baby. That's Brad Decker. That firefighter I wanted to set you up with. And I will. _If_ you come back to me in two days and tell me that it didn't pan out with Castle."

"This is insane, Lanie."

"Would you just trust me?" her friend asks, exasperated. "Just… tell him he's taking you out, enjoy a nice meal with a man you don't hate nearly as much as you pretend to, and come back to me to tell me how it goes. If you tell me it was terrible, you'll have Brad's number. He was Mr. July in last year's Firefighters of New York Calendar, you know."

Beckett opens her mouth to protest, but Lanie holds up a hand.

"Consider it a dare, if nothing else."

"What are we? Twelve?" she mutters.

"Well, I'm not. But with this thing you and Castle keep doing? You might as well be. So cut it out, kiss the man, and make yourself happy already. Before you drive everyone around you crazy."

Another protest springs to her lips. "I can't just tell him he's taking me out."

"Sure you can. Pick a restaurant, ask him about it, tell him he's taking you there. Done. And I notice you didn't say you don't _want_ him to take you out."

"Shut up," she mutters, sliding a hand over her face. The worst part is that Lanie's right, damn it.

"Kate," her friend sighs, grabbing her wrist and tugging her fingers from her eyes. "You are so damn stubborn. You want the man. You should go get the man."

Her jaw shifts, which is as good as confirming it as far as Lanie is concerned. Her friend holds out her hand, palm up.

"Give me your phone."

Beckett blinks. "My what? Why?"

"Your phone. I'll do it for you."

Against her better judgement, she removes her phone from her pocket, but holds it just out of reach. Lanie seizes the device from her anyway, pulling up her texts and firing off something she's not sure she ever wants to see. Once her friend finishes, she doesn't hand the phone back, instead awaiting the chime of Castle's response.

Lanie snorts, typing something else, looking wholly unconcerned with the fact that this is a terrible idea. Beyond terrible.

Beckett fights the urge to snatch the phone away, to send him another message blaming her friend and taking it all back. It would be juvenile, but what about this entire situation isn't?

Her head drops in defeat. She should've just gone to a bar; this is a complete disaster.

"Ah, he says he can't wait. And he has the perfect place in mind for your evening."

Oh god. He didn't. Did he?

She lifts her eyes to find Lanie smirking at her, holding her phone between them. Kate grabs it before her friend can yank it back, skimming the messages to see _exactly_ what Lanie had texted her shadow before sucking it up and reading his response.

He had asked if she'd texted the wrong person, then if she was serious (or if she had bumped her head and needed a ride to the hospital). Then, after reassurance that she wasn't concussed or sending the message to the wrong number, he had agreed.

No more jokes, just a genuine – if not surprised – expression of excitement, and then an added pledge to see her tomorrow.

"I…" She stares at the phone. "Wow."

"Uh huh. Feel better?"

"No. This is a terrible idea. What happens when–"

"When what?" Lanie shakes her head. "Go get your man, honey. Worry later about what happens next."

Beckett licks her lips. She's not really going to do this, is she?

"And wear that red dress you bought the last time we went shopping."

"I – you think so?"

Damn it. She is.

Lanie nods. "Mhmm."

Kate gathers herself up, checking her pockets for her keys to make this getaway happen faster. "Fine. And when this crashes and burns, I want Mr. July's number."

Lanie gives her the knowing smirk she hates so very much. "Sure. Let me know how tomorrow goes."

"I hate you," she mutters, stepping away from Lanie's table.

"No you don't," her friend singsongs. "You'll hate me even less when you're waking up in that man's bed two days from now."

 _That_ is most definitely not going to happen.

* * *

Two mornings later, she wakes to the press of skin underneath her cheek, and the steady, strong thud of a heartbeat at her temple. His breathing is even and deep, save for the occasional catch and snort that might be considered a snore, but it's cute instead of being maddening.

A part of her considers easing her leg from the tangle of his and slipping away from the curl of fingers in her hair and at her back. Instead she sinks against him, nudging her nose into the warmth of his body, adopting his peace as her own for the time being. Whatever last night was, whatever it might turn into, she can't bring herself to leave just yet.

Her phone shatters that peace just a few minutes later, buzzing insistently from the nightstand. Castle stirs at the noise, flinging an arm toward the disturbance, but she's able to stretch and grab the offending object before he gets to it.

"Beckett," she rasps, allowing her eyes to slip shut as dispatch rattles off a few details and an address. Her bedmate's fingers comb through her hair, his thumb pressing gently at the base of her skull, pulling a hum from her lips. "Yeah," she says once she has an opening, clearing her throat. "I'll be there."

She ends the call a moment later, lowering her phone to rest on his chest.

"Got a case?" Castle asks, his voice sleep-roughened but curious, hopeful.

"Yeah," Kate sighs, swiping at her face. She needs to go home for a shower and a fresh set of clothes; there's no way she's going to show up at a crime scene in what she had worn last night when she and Castle left the precinct together, on their way to _Remy's_ to make up for the meal they had only sort of eaten at _Drago_.

Everything about that stupid date had been a disaster. The restaurant, while exclusive and flashy, had lacked both warmth and portion sizes suitable for anyone over the age of five. She and Castle had been painfully awkward, two fumbling fools stuck making pathetic attempts at small talk over appetizers. They had lapsed into silence soon after, only perking up when their thoughts turned to their case.

Later on, when he had suggested _Remy's_ to appease their hunger, she had only needed a moment to deliberate before taking his hand and letting him walk her out of her precinct for what she knows he's calling their _actual_ date.

Given that the hour and a half they had spent in a booth had been enough to bring them to this moment, she's not sure she can disagree with him.

Beckett lifts her head. "I should go," she says, only to watch him deflate. "I need to get a change of clothes, take a shower."

His lips twist, humor replacing his disappointment. "No crime scene walk of shame for you, Detective Beckett?"

"Mmm," she says stretching up to touch her lips to his smirk. "Can't be the walk of shame if I'm not ashamed. I thought you would get that, Castle."

He chuckles against her mouth, palming her back to keep her pressed against him.

"Plus," she continues, brushing her fingertips over the scruff on his jaw, remembering the intoxicating scrape of it against her skin. "I got mustard on my shirt last night. So unless you got out of bed in the middle of the night to do some stain treatment and a load of laundry, I can't wear it to work."

Castle shakes his head. "That wasn't high on my list of priorities last night."

"Thought so," Kate says, pulling him down for another kiss before she rolls away and scrounges around the bedroom floor for her clothes. "73rd and Lex, meet you there?" she asks, looking over her shoulder, unsurprised to find him watching her with dark, wanting eyes.

"Yeah," he agrees, catching her hand on her way to the bathroom. "I'll bring coffee."

Her face splits on a silly grin. "Good. Kay, now I'm gonna change."

He's still in bed when she finishes changing, and she can't help but make a detour across the mattress to slip her fingers into his hair and kiss him until they're both breathless.

"Don't be late with my coffee," she orders, pressing her open palm over his thundering heart before pulling away.

Castle grins, tucking his arms behind his head. "I wouldn't dream of it."

* * *

"Well, well, well," Lanie says the moment Kate steps close, smirking at her half-dried hair and hastily applied makeup. "Did you get called in at a bad time?"

Kate narrows her eyes, trusting her face not to betray her, even if her appearance has. "No. I overslept."

"Uh huh," her friend answers, looking her up and down again anyway. "Late night?"

"Wrapped my case." She takes care to sound as nonchalant as she can, scanning the crime scene with keen eyes. Although there's no sign of a struggle, she sees blood spatter on the walls. "Tell me about our guy here."

Lanie makes a noise that could be a snort, but doesn't push, offering what she knows about the victim instead. White male, late thirties, single GSW to the chest, killed between 1 and 7, to be narrowed down once he's on the table.

"Unis found these on him," her friend adds, offering her an evidence bag.

Beckett nods, slipping her gloves on and pulling their vic's things from the bag. She finds his ID first, studying the man's photo and his address before looking through the rest of the wallet.

"His kids are cute," she says, dipping her chin. "I'll grab Castle and head to his house to notify his wife. Call me when you're done with the autopsy?"

Lanie agrees quietly, standing with her. "But before you go… speaking of Castle?"

Kate feigns ignorance. "What?"

"Don't you 'what' me, Kate Beckett. Last night you had a date with that man," Lanie says, gesturing to the figure approaching from one corner of the crime scene, coffee in hand, his steps almost jaunty, "and today you get here _late_ , looking like you ran through a sprinkler to shower, and you're not even mad about it."

"I told you, Lanie. I overslept and I didn't have time to dry my hair. No big deal."

"Uh huh, so explain the spring in his step."

Beckett lifts a shoulder. "I don't know. Why does Castle do anything he does? Why don't you ask him?"

It's a bold strategy since, for all she knows, Castle might have already started telling the world that they'd spent the night together, but she has to call Lanie's bluff before the heat from her own cheeks gives her away.

Her friend grumbles, turning to Castle when he steps up, giving him a thorough once-over. If he's bothered by the sudden attention, he doesn't show it.

"Morning Dr. Parish, Detective Beckett. Sorry I'm late; I started talking to Officer Daniels about his new baby," he greets them, jovial as ever – maybe a little too jovial, but signaling for him to tone it down will show Lanie her hand, and she's not going to do that yet. "What do we have?"

Her fingers close around her coffee as she recaps what they know so far. Castle looks between her and the victim as she talks, nodding every so often.

"So that's where we're headed now?" he asks when she finishes. Beckett nods around the rim of her cup.

"But first," Lanie steps in, ignoring Kate's glare. "How was your night, Castle?"

"Better than Mr. Escott's," he says without missing a beat. Beckett smothers a smile in her coffee. "Pretty quiet evening, other than the spider crawling on my shoulder at the pet store. That wasn't all that fun."

Kate laughs. "Oh come on, Castle, it wasn't going to hurt you."

"Eight hairy legs, Beckett," he retorts, shuddering. "Eight hairy legs crawling on my body. No thank you."

"Baby," she teases, knocking him with her elbow. He gasps in mock-offense, clutching his chest one-handed.

"You wound me."

Beckett rolls her eyes, peeling the latex gloves from her hands before motioning for him to turn around and walk in the direction of her squad car. "Yeah, I know I do. Yet somehow you survive. Let's go."

She knows as soon as her hands connect with Castle's coat to guide him from the scene that the gesture is too familiar, too intimate, and that Lanie _has_ taken notice of it. But she ignores the urge to yank her hands away and take a step back, instead pressing forward, keeping her chin up.

"Keep moving," she mumbles, partially for Castle's benefit and partially for her own.

"You and I are going to talk later, Beckett," Lanie calls.

"Is this about your bet?" Castle asks, glancing back. She can only see part of his face, but she knows he's grinning. "That's why she was asking me questions, too, wasn't it?"

"Shut up," she grumbles, half-regretting the moment of weakness that had led her to confess Lanie's role in their date. He'd been silent at first, and she had wondered if he would push her away, tell her to find her clothes, and get out, but he hadn't.

No, he hadn't kicked her out; he'd thought it was hilarious and had spent the next ten minutes in a fit of near-hysterical laughter. Apparently he still thinks it's funny.

"You know, if you want to go tell her all about it, I can wait in the car," he drawls, stopping to lift the crime scene tape for her. Such a gentleman.

"You never wait in the car."

"I'll make an exception this once."

Kate snorts, fishing her keys from her coat pocket.

"But," Castle starts as he pulls the passenger door open, "if you're still undecided about getting the firefighter's number, maybe I need another chance to make my case?"

She turns to him once they're both settled in the car. "Castle, are you asking me out?"

"Yes. Should I go get Lanie to do it for me?" He laughs at her frustrated growl. "What do you say, Beckett? One more date before you decide if you really want Mr. July's digits?"

"What about Bachelorette Number Three?" she asks instead of giving him the immediate satisfaction of knowing she doesn't want Mr. July's contact information. "After all, you did cancel on her. Don't you want to try again?"

Castle lifts a shoulder. "I don't see that ever going anywhere. Why waste her time?"

"Oh." Strange as it is, hearing that helps to quiet the voice that's been in the back of her mind since the moment he'd boasted that the bachelorette wanted to meet him. The voice that has insisted that she can't possibly be what he wants, that this will end up exploding in their faces and making them both miserable.

"So, dinner? Though we could make it lunch if you think Firefighting Calendar Boy is on a time crunch."

Beckett rolls her eyes at the nickname. "Fine. Lunch sounds good. As long as we're making headway on this case."

Her shadow grins, puffing his chest out as he sits back in his seat. He knows he has her, of course he knows. But he'll play the game with her anyway; it's half the fun. "If we're not, I'll get takeout."

She has to purse her lips to contain her smile. "Chinese from Hung's?"

"Okay," he agrees, sipping his coffee as she steers the car away from the curb and into New York traffic.

A few hours later she lets Castle have the honor of texting Lanie from her phone and telling her that the firefighter's number won't be necessary.

* * *

 _A/N: Happy Super Late Birthday, Lou! 3_


End file.
